One Week
by Eryn Goldbergg
Summary: JONAS. Macy has one week. One week to make him love her. Nick/Macy. Slight Macy-centric. Seven chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Sunday**

**11:56 p.m.**

_The Hills _was a bunch of dreck.

At least, that was Macy Misa's opinion. But who cared about what she thought about MTV's number one hit show? She was just a seventeen year old girl. Another statistic on the network's fancy charts.

_Ugh. I have to get over myself._

Macy sat up on her wrought iron bed(an antique from Grandma Misa) and sighed wistfully. Her white silk chemise grazed her toned thighs and calmed her down a bit. Going off on rants battling hit television networks could really work a girl up. She picked up her mom's old hairbrush off the dresser and stared at it.

"Oh, Mom," Macy sighed to the brush, a soft half-smiled etched onto her face.

Her mom had walked out on them. And by them she meant she and her dad, Daniel Misa. Surprisingly, he hadn't started dating anyone else yet. Not that Macy wanted him to, but still. The guy was a classic: tall, dark, and as handsome as a dad could get. But apparently, her parents had been so deeply in love, her father couldn't bear to date another woman.

Really.

The tale of her parent's love was classic The Notebook.

So Angela Peterson(Macy's mom) and Daniel Misa met in 1971, the age of hippies. Macy's mom: the wild child. Her parents wanted her to be a self-respecting, debutante, but her mom was pretty much a weed-smoking, no-bra wearing, hippie. Anyway, Angela was getting some weed from the street corner, and the only vendor there was her dad, who was new to the whole weed selling thing, so he gave her too much on accident and they both got a little too high.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

After a while, they started dating. They were in love. Or as much love as hippies could be in(because they were in love with nearly everyone). And then when Angela brought Daniel home, her parents said right in front of Daniel that they didn't want her dating a black man. So Angela and Daniel ran away, had sex, and in due time, Angela gave birth to Macy. In a matter of two weeks after Macy was born, she left.

In case you haven't already noticed, the whole "The Notebook" thing was a joke.

Macy grasped the mother-of-pearl handle of the hairbrush even tighter and pulled it through her mahogany hair, impressed at how long it took before the brush was finally free. At the beginning of junior year, it came to her shoulders. Now, 5 months into the school year, her hair fell to her nonexistent breasts(they were A cups, practically invisible compared to her best friend, Stella's, Bs).

Jabbing her thumb into the OFF button on her remote, Macy watched the TV blip into darkness. She sunk into her mattress, wrapping the satin comforter tightly around her so she resembled a sushi roll. Macy put the brush back on her dresser and let the timed chirping of the crickets lull her to sleep.

**Monday**

**7: 30 a.m.**

_Baby, are you down, down, down, down, down_

_Down, down_

_Even when the sky is falling down_

Macy scooped up her white iPhone with one hand and raised it to her ear, pausing a second before answering it. Jay Sean was the best.

"Yeah?" Macy answered, running in front of her mirror and giving herself the once over. Knowing Stella, her uniform was probably problem-free, thanks to her best friend's genius fashion IQ. But she checked for flaws anyway. Did her navy cigarette leg pants have a panty line? Was her turquoise bra showing through her white Oxford? She checked her dark brown flat riding boots (equestrian practice required _immaculate _gear).

But, as usual Stella had thought of everything. She even added a navy sweater for warmth.

For once in her life, Stella had been practical.

Even though Macy totally disagreed with the winter uniform at Horace Mantis Academy, Macy had to admit, Stella could be a celebrity stylist.

She was. To JONAS. The only band in the world that could accommodate three hot guys and not explode from the extreme pressure. The band that Macy adored. Namely, she adored Nick, the youngest member of the band.

He was perfect. Sweet, sensitive, and a little on the quiet side, but Macy would get a smile out of him. Not to mention hotter than a spicy burrito.

But enough of that.

"Macy!" Her best friend's voice barked into the phone. "I'm almost there, so you better be ready!"

Macy opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the carpeted hallway. "Okay, but you don't have to—"

Suddenly, a car horn blared. Macy already had a sickening feeling who it was, but glanced out the bay window at the end of the hall anyway.

Sure enough, a crimson Lexus convertible was parked in the middle of the cobblestone driveway. A little blond person could be seen in the driver's seat. Another honk.

"Unfortch for you, Mace, I don't have all day!" Stella barked into the phone again.

"I know, I'm coming," Macy hung up, dropped her phone into her plaid backpack, and slung it over her shoulder.

**Monday**

**7:54 a.m.**

By the time Macy had kissed her dad goodbye, fed the cat, and walked outside to meet Stella, Stella was already out of the car and huffing, the toe of her red ballet flats tapping the stones on the driveway.

"Sorry," Macy breathed, dropping her backpack into the tan leather backseat. But she could tell by the look on Stella's face that an apology wasn't going to make it better.

"Sorry, Stella, for waiting almost 20 minutes to come out," Stella mocked Macy's voice. "Sorry, Stella, for making you late for homeroom, YOUR ONLY CHANCE to impress Van Dyke!" Stella slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door. Macy got into the passenger seat. How could she possibly make this better?

"Stella," Macy started in a sugary-sweet voice. "You look really great today."

Stella narrowed her eyes. It was obviously an underhanded attempt to make her feel better. But she allowed her famous Chesire Cat smile to creep onto her face anyway.

"Really?" Stella popped the collar of her navy blue Oxford shirtdress. "You don't think the black leggings are too much?"

"Not at all," Macy said hastily, even though she had no idea.

"Awww, you're the best friend ever!" Stella squealed starting the car. Macy sighed. The petty fights were getting way too frequent.

"You are, too," Macy gave her best friend's shoulder a squeeze.

**Monday**

**12:30 p.m.**

"So, then, I was like, should I go blond or stay brunette, and he was like, 'I don't care!" Vera Miller stabbed her grilled chicken breast with her fork, a frown plastered onto her face.

"Oh, my God," Stella shook her head, sympathizing greatly in Vera's hair dilemma. Macy sighed from her spot at the marble lunch table. Although she would have loved to have been involved in the hair-tastrophe, she was unable to. Did Stella always have to sit with her other friends from sewing club?

Vera ran her fingers through her flame red hair. "So I went for red, but it's so not me,"

"It totally is!" Marti Fox cried, flicking a piece of lint from her shrunken navy blazer.

"Yeah, it pops," Callie, Marti's twin sister, agreed, her mouth full of lasagna.

"I think it looks nice," Stella said, giving Macy a look that said "I have nothing more to contribute to this conversation". Macy took the hint and stood up, ready to go somewhere else. It was her turn to pick where to sit for the rest of lunch.

"Well, ladies," Stella gave the table a smile. "See you around,"

"Bye," Marti called to Stella and Macy's receeding backs.

"Don't forget to bring a thimble," Callie joked, elbowing Vera. Obviously this was an inside joke.

"Okay, where do we sit?" Stella asked, eyes scanning the room. Macy's eyes zoned in on the JONAS table. _Hottie alert._

"With JO—"

"Ew," Stella cried, pointing in the direction of the table. Macy looked to see what could possibly be "ew" about JONAS.

Sure enough, Amy Russo had draped herself over the chair next to Nick, and talking to them. Well, it was more of Amy talking _at _them.

"She looks annoyingly cute today," Stella grimaced, glaring at she and Macy's archenemy. "Those gray boot cut dress pants. They're Theory. I wanted those."

Macy narrowed her eyes. "Her blazer's adorable."

"Her peep toe pumps: to die for."

"The black crocodile embossed hobo is chic times ten."

"The ring adds the perfect touch."

"The messy bun: brilliant."

"Ugh, I hate her." They both seethed. Macy took Stella's hand and brought her over to the table.

"Hi, guys," Macy smiled. Amy's smile turned into an evil smirk. Not that the boys noticed. Joe was too busy grinning at her like an idiot. Nick was giving her a glance every now and then. And Kevin was sniffing his fingers. Macy didn't want to know.

"Oh, look, who it is." Amy smiled. "Wow, Macy, if it weren't for that adorable headband, that outfit would have been in my garbage disposal by now."

Macy bit her lip to stop a string of expletives from pouring out.

Amy gave another confident smirk and walked off without even bothering to say goodbye. The boys slowly came back to Earth from their dangerous orbit around Amy's head.

"Stella!" Joe cried.

"Joe!" Stella replied in the same tone.

"I want to see what I'm wearing to the Oscars," Joe bounced up and down on his butt like a 5 year old. Nick shot him a glare and he stopped bouncing.

"Me too," Kevin cried, removing his fingers from his nostrils.

"I'm glad you guys are enthusiastic about it," Stella smiled. She started to walk off, the two boys following behind her. "Because this could rocket you into the Fashion Hall of Fame…"

Macy sighed and glanced at Nick. Finally, they were alone.

_**Ack! That's all! Another chapter, possibly? Hmmmmm…..**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Tuesday**

**1:13 a.m.**

"Are you crazy?" Stella shrieked, sitting on the edge of her mattress.

"No." Macy rolled her eyes and pulled her extra large unicorn sleep shirt over her head. "And if you would stop interrupting me and let me talk for a second, you would know that."

"Fine," Stella huffed, stripping down to her coral Cosabella bra and thong. Her messy side braid flew in front of her face and she brushed it away. "I'm listening."

"Good," Macy smiled, satisfied. "So what I was—"

"I just don't get it!" Stella exploded, yanking her American Apparel boxers over her toned legs. "I mean, not only is it hard enough to get Nick Lucas to fall in or out of love with somebody, but you're trying to do this within a _week_?"

"That's all the time I have," Macy defended her plan, sticking her round chin out. "Remember, in a week, the JONAS tour takes place?"

"Macy, I don't get you—why can't you just do this _after_ the tour?" Stella picked up her faded gray tee shirt. "It only makes sense,"

"I can't wait that long," Macy whined, rolling onto her back and propping herself up on her elbows. "I've already lost a day, so now I have to kick things into overdrive,"

"What are you going to do, become the next Amy Russo?" Stella narrowed her eyes. "Do you want to be known as the school slut?"

"Stella, I'm not sleeping over again if you're going to interrogate me!" Macy cried. "And to answer your question, no, I'm just going to…try a little harder, that's all."

"So you need…boy advice?" Stella said slowly, as if boy advice was an illegal drug smuggled across the border.

"Yes,"

Then Macy's eyes popped open as she realized who Stella was talking about. She knew that the only person Stella trusted or any boy advice was her older sister, Ashlynn Malone.

Macy could understand, why, though. Ashlynn was a total boy magnet. Boys were naturally attracted to her ash blond waves that tumbled down to her back and her large turquoise eyes, which were shadowed by thick, dark lashes. She was 5 foot 11, towering over Stella's 5 foot 4 and Macy's 5 foot 2.

And as if Ashlynn wasn't perfect enough, she also had a great personality.

The _bitch._

**Tuesday**

**1:35 a.m.**

"So, let me get this straight," Ashlynn pursed her full lips and pointed her chopsticks at Macy. "You want this rock star to fall in love with you in a _week_?"

Macy shrank back. Now that it was coming out of Ashlynn's mouth, the plan sounded ridiculous.

"Yes," Stella answered for her.

Ashlynn paused for a split second before bursting into hysterical laughter. Salty tears ran down her high cheekbones and onto her satin navy chemise. Her screams of laughter made Macy want to giggle.

Stella was not amused.

The look of mirth on Ashlynn's face faded faster than a red sock in the dryer.

"Wait," Ashlynn's small button nose crinkled in confusion. "You were serious?"

"Yes," Stella said in a stony voice.

"Macy, do you really want this guy to love you?" Ashlynn leaned forward in her chair, the spitting image of Stella.

"Of course," Macy nodded, reassuring herself.

"Well, then," Ashlynn smirked. "You're ready,"

**Tuesday**

**7:31 a.m.**

"So you're a dancer, huh?" Ashlynn shouted over the roar of the blow dryer.

Macy had no idea why this was necessary. Stella had called her hair stylist, Zeke, to give Macy a before-school blowout, and now the floor was covered in what appeared to be dead hair(even though she swore she brushed).

"Yeah," Macy answered, just as the blow drying stopped. Zeke went to pack up his equipment and Macy was free to spin around in her chair.

"You know," Ashlynn started, a mischevious twinkle in her eye. "Guys like dancers 'cause they're…flexible." She raised her eyebrows suggestively and Macy turned red.

"ASHLYNN!" Stella bellowed, elbowing her sister hard in the ribs. Ashlynn clutched her ribs, laughing.

"What, it's true," Ashlynn laughed, ushering Macy to where her dress was laid out. Stella had insisted that Macy only wear her bra and underwear so hair wouldn't get on any of Stella's "priceless artifacts of clothing".

Stella rolled her eyes and forced the navy collared cap sleeve dress over Macy's head. Macy patted down her hair.

"Wear these," Ashlynn called from the depths of Stella's closet, tossing a pair of red and gray Gucci sneakers at Macy. "It will show the obvious athletic side to you, which guys love,"

Stella snorted. "So does that mean if I wear sneakers, I'll magically become good at sports?"

"No," Ashlynn snapped. "You don't wear sneaks."

Stella put Macy's hair in a high ponytail and tossed her a red Kate Spade tote. "I put your books in this."

"Thanks," Macy said, a little flustered.

"Oohh….you look so cute and althetic girly!" Ashlynn speed-clapped. "Now, let's go over the advice. Rule number 1?"

Macy bit her lip in thought. "Never start a conversation. Act like nothing is an awkward silence."

"Oh, brilliant!" Ashlynn cried, proud of her pupil. "Okay, rule number 2?"

"Be playful."

"A.K.A?" Stella crooned from the corner, where she was getting dressed in crimson bell-sleeved wrap dress.

"Sarcasm with a smile." Macy beamed, showing off her white teeth(which had been scrubbed for 5 minutes by Stella).

"And rule number 3?" Ashlynn's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper and she crossed her legs, Oprah style.

Stella hobbled over, one foot in a navy Christian Dior pump and the other in the red to it. "Which one?"

"The red one." Macy smiled. Stella and Ashlynn looked horrified.

"That's too much of the same color," Ashlynn shook her head. "She'll look like a siren. Go with the navy, Stellz."

"That's what I was thinking," Stella said slowly, staring at Macy strangely. "Athletes."

She hobbled off to put on her other shoe and Ashlynn went back to Oprah mode.

"Rule 3?"

"Never…" Macy bit her lip. "Never…."

"UGH!" Ashlynn cried in frustration. "Macy, this is the most important rule. You _cannot _forget this!"

Macy blushed, stumped.

"Never tell the male you like him first." Ashlynn pounded Stella's mattress for emphasis. "EVER!"

"Hello!" Stella raised her eyebrows. "I'm ready to go!"

**Tuesday**

**2:45 p.m.**

Macy strolled out of the gym, feeling free. Finally, she was wearing clothes she felt comfortable in: her soccer outfit. She wobbled along the freshly waxed hallway in her cleats, whistling "Down" by Jay Sean.

Her knees were covered in mud and grass stains. Her black soccer shorts? Soaked with dew. Her sports bra: muddy. And her hair: no longer in a high ponytail. She had taken it down and opted for a messy bun instead.

She looked like fashion roadkill, but she adored it.

Macy opened her locker and shoved the LeSportsac tote with the outfit Stella had picked out for her in it. She yanked out the rubber band restricting her hair and let the now water-wavy tendrils fall out of the bun and onto her shoulders. Then she sank down to the floor, rolling and unrolling the tops of her knee socks. The knee pads underneath them were beaten up, thanks to the practical refrigerator that was Callie Peterson. Suddenly, she noticed a pair of Converse coming her way.

Nick.

She sighed in defeat, not even bothering to try and change in the split second it would be before he was standing before her. She was too tired.

"Wow," he said, his eyes widened. He was smiling.

"Yeah, I got a little rough on the field," Macy answered, trying to keep the smile on her face. _Always smile, _Ashlynn had instructed her before she and Stella had left for school.

Nick came down to her level and sat down right next to her.

"Okay, so do you play every sport known to man or—"

Macy started giggling, and Nick stopped, smiling.

"or what?" he finished, chuckling.

"Yes, I think I do." Macy grinned. "Well, except for sky-diving, but I'm begging my dad. He's not letting me do it, though." She frowned. "He says I'll get hurt. And 'we wouldn't want that'."

"I wouldn't want that," Nick said softly, a silence between them. Macy tried to pretend it wasn't awkward, but it was. So she decided to break a rule.

"So, what are you doing here before 3, anyway?" Macy teased. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Nope," Nick shrugged. "Orchestra. I get out 15 minutes early. What about you?"

"Err," Macy turned her arm. "I got 'injured', so the coach benched me during the scrimmage,"

Nick examined the purple and black bruise. His face contorted in horror and Macy knew it was a mistake to show him her wound.

"Whoa," he ran his finger gently around the edge. Macy bit her lip to stop from crying out in pain.

"Sorry," Nick withdrew his hand.

"Um, what time is it?" Macy asked, pulling her cleats off.

"It's…5 minutes to three now," Nick said, his eyes widening. "Time flies."

"When you're having fun," Macy finished the quote softly. She stared at him. He stared at her.

"Um, ok," Nick got up off the floor, and helped Macy up. "See you on Thursday, I guess."

"Wait," Macy smiled. "Isn't tomorrow Wednesday?"

"Yeah," Nick shrugged. "But we have tomorrow off and JONAS has to read to the kids with polio—"

"Tomorrow's off?" Macy said, horrified. She'd already lost one day.

"Teacher Work Day." Nick grimaced. "Well, see you later,"

"See you," Macy said to Nick's receding back. Suddenly, the final bell rang and the students flooded out of the classrooms. But Macy was left, standing there by her locker in disbelief.

**Tuesday**

**5:32 p.m.**

"How come you never told me?" Macy whined from she and Stella's booth at the S Bar. Stella shrugged.

"I didn't know until Vera told me in Sewing Club,"

"But I've already lost a day," Macy whined again.

"Then," Stella smirked. "We'll just have to step things up."

**That's it! :) You guys are awesome for reviewing and favoriting(new word) and alerting! Keep it up!**


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